Inside the hospital ward.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang stood quietly beside the One-Eyed Man's bed, watching as doctors wheeled him away.
The two exchanged a glance.
"I feel awful," Old Zhang murmured, his head bowed low, tears welling in his eyes. "He was a good man. I truly wanted to help him grow his eye back. But I hesitated on the twelfth needle… I couldn't find the right spot. I acted carelessly, just jabbed randomly. I didn't give it my all. And now I regret it deeply."
When the mentally ill express remorse, they don't bottle it up.
They wear their emotions openly—
If they're happy, they laugh.
If they're sad, they cry.
Everything is laid bare.
Lin Fan wrapped an arm around Zhang's shoulders, gently patting his back.
"Don't be sad," he soothed. "Let's get some sleep."
"Yeah, I'm a bit sleepy," Zhang sniffled, rubbing his eyes. After Lin Fan's comforting words, his sorrow eased. Sleepiness washed over him; waking in the middle of the night had clearly been too much.
"Sleep."
"Sleep."
They lay in their beds, tucked beneath the covers, heads tilted toward one another, sharing a warm smile.
"Goodnight."
They closed their eyes and drifted into dreams.
The night was still.
Zhang Hongmin didn't even dare to breathe loudly. Despite knowing these two were "good" lunatics… they were still lunatics.
The red light of the emergency room remained lit.
Inside, the doctors—bathed in a sacred, almost divine glow—fought to save the One-Eyed Man. Though the world had fallen into slumber, they worked tirelessly. To them, saving a life outweighed sleep itself.
March 4th.
Dawn.
A light drizzle fell outside.
Gray clouds loomed, and the chill in the air brought with it a faint dampness.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang woke slowly, yawning and rubbing their eyes. They'd slept well—truly well.
They exchanged a look and broke into beaming smiles.
"Good morning."
A simple exchange, yet full of their quiet, lonesome friendship.
The world might see them as madmen.
But to each other, they were the best of companions.
The One-Eyed Man had already awoken.
He had come to during the night, surrounded by doctors. Physically, all indicators were normal—yet his brainwaves troubled the medical team.
The head physician, who had resuscitated Lin Fan countless times before, found himself at a loss.
With all my experience, I still can't figure out what's wrong with this man. Why won't he wake up? What's happening inside his brain?
But in the end, it was the One-Eyed Man himself who forced his eyes open.
"I'm fine," he muttered flatly.
After awakening, he lay staring at the ceiling, sleep never once touching his eyes.
He began to reflect:
Why did I insist on butting heads with lunatics?
Am I some sort of contrarian troll?
Obviously not.
He'd already been stabbed twice and still didn't learn his lesson. He had to go for a third round?
That kid brought back that wire with one purpose—to electrocute him.
If not for his strength, he'd have ended up not in the emergency room…
But in the morgue.
And then, his colleagues from the Special Division would show up at the funeral parlor, toss him a bouquet, and say,
"Wanna go karaoke later?"
They'd sing:
"Farewell, my friend, may you journey well…"
Old Zhang appeared at his bedside, face full of remorse.
"I'm really sorry," he said earnestly. "It was my fault last night. I didn't mean to mess up. Honestly, I think I could've succeeded… I just forgot where to place the twelfth needle. If you give me one more chance, I swear I can help you."
"Will you trust me again?"
"Just like he does. He always believes in me."
His voice was filled with sincerity. He knew he had made a mistake—and he hoped, just once more, for forgiveness.
The One-Eyed Man slowly turned his head, expression unreadable.
He stared directly at Old Zhang, his eyes devoid of emotion—flat, cold, impassive.
Just silence.
No words.
But the message was clear:
"Get the hell away from me. Never let me see your damn face again.
Because if I do… I might not be able to stop myself from smashing in your skull."
Me. A top-level operative in the Special Division. One of Yan Hai City's elite.
And I've been humiliated by you three times.
You should be proud.
But you're still not satisfied? You wanna keep going? You want me dead, is that it?
Lin Fan stepped forward, standing beside Old Zhang. He looked the One-Eyed Man in the eyes and said gently:
"What he said is true. I believe you should give him one more chance."
The One-Eyed Man stared at them in silence.
Then, slowly, he sat up.
His temporary paralysis had worn off.
Though not a single hair remained on his head.
As one doctor put it:
"We were just about to perform a craniotomy. As soon as we shaved his head, he woke up. A blessing, really. If he'd woken up during surgery... well, that would've been awkward."
He walked past them to the window. Rain pattered lightly outside.
Taking a deep breath of the damp morning air, he climbed up onto the windowsill, gripped the ledge, and turned to face them.
Expressionless, he muttered:
"Fine. You win."
"No… you'll never see me again."
With that—he jumped.
As promised.
Give me one more chance, and I'll leap from the building.
Well, here it was.
His own fault, really.
Trying to understand madmen.
What was I thinking?
"Aaahhhhhh!"
A nurse at the door witnessed him leap and collapsed in terror, her face turning ghostly pale. She screamed with all her might:
"DOCTOR!!!"
"Patient has jumped! He jumped out the window!"
Lin Fan and Old Zhang leaned out the window, waving.
Down below, the One-Eyed Man rose slowly to his feet, soaked by the rain.
He looked up at the twelfth-floor window and saw the two of them.
He raised a hand, waggling a finger.
"You bastards win. I admit defeat."
Then he pulled out his phone, typed a message, and vanished into the misty morning drizzle.
Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital.
Director Hao read the message that had just arrived:
One-Eyed Man: You win.
He sipped his goji-berry red date tea, scratching his head.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Screw it. Better drink more tea. Good for the health.
Life's easier now that there are no patients in Ward 666.
Back in the ward.
Lin Fan and Old Zhang sat in silence.
"He didn't say goodbye to us."
"So we weren't really his friends."
"We've always just had each other."
"…Wanna drink Sprite?"
"I feel like Coke today."
They sat at the edge of their beds, swinging their legs, sipping soda.
Their brows furrowed—
Something tasted off.
Still, they drank it anyway.
The doctors had rushed in after the nurse's screams. But when they reached the room, the One-Eyed Man was gone.
They turned to Zhang Hongmin in shock, asking what happened.
"He jumped."
Yet—no body was found below.
When Deputy Director Li heard the news, he nearly exploded with rage.
Someone skipped out on the bill!?
The guy was transferred from the psychiatric hospital. He immediately made a call.
"Old Hao, that One-Eyed guy you sent us from Qingshan—we cured him, and now he's vanished. So when can we settle the medical bill, huh? You know how tight things are these days. Hope you understand."
Though Director Li had blocked Hao's WeChat Moments, he still spoke politely on the phone.
After all—money talks.
And acting courteous was part of the game.
Director Hao's voice came through, flat and unbothered:
"Wrong number."
Beep. Beep. Beep…
Busy signal.
"Son of a—!"
Deputy Director Li cursed into the receiver.
"Shameless bastard!"
(End of Chapter)